


The Forest

by aperioncatalyst



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:02:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2798828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aperioncatalyst/pseuds/aperioncatalyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmilla recounts tales of her past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Forest

The Forest

Snow falls as Carmilla and Laura walk through the forest. They've been walking for an hour through the winding path and there's still a ways to go. Laura blows air through her gloved hands. They walk in a slow pace, though Laura knows Carmilla would prefer to go even slower. They're shoulder to shoulder as they walk, but every time Laura tries to move closer, Carmilla pulls away, almost imperceptibly.  
Laura is telling one of her childhood stories and Carmilla is transfixed, as usual. She is so transfixed she doesn't notice the fallen branch, she trips and falls. Laura is too slow to react and can't help but laugh. Snow covers Carmilla's coat, gets in her hair.  
"Puta madre," Carmilla mutters.  
"Oh my god," Laura says, "Are you okay, what happened?"  
"I fell, what does it look like?"  
"It looks like you fell," Laura says. She gives Carmilla a hand getting up. They continue their trek. The clear sky and full moon illuminate the path and the snow, making it seem like morning.  
"How far is the cabin?" Laura asks.  
"Not far, we're almost there."  
"And how did you come upon this cabin?"  
"It was a gift, from a friend, long ago."  
They walk in silence for a moment, Laura wanting to move faster than the languid pace Carmilla is in.  
“What you said just now, what language was it?”  
“Spanish,” Carmilla says.  
“You speak Spanish?”  
“Yes.”  
“Where did you learn it?”  
“In Mexico.”

Mexico

“Tell me a story," Laura says. “I want to know how you learned Spanish. Tell me about Mexico, but first say something in Spanish.” Laura says excitedly.  
“Algo,” Carmilla says, and laughs at her own joke.  
Laura doesn't react to her 'joke.'  
"Algo means 'something' in Spanish.” Carmilla says.  
“But what does it mean?” Laura says, catching on.  
They both laugh this time.  
“No, but seriously, tell me about Mexico” Laura says. “What do you remember?”  
“Hey, I'm not that old.” Carmilla continues to dusts herself off from the snow as they continue their walk. “My mother and I visited Mexico, back then it was but a colony of France. Which incidentally is how I ended up in Paris for the first time. But that's a story for another time.” Carmilla leans against a tree and picks up some snow with her bare hands, watches it melt in her hand. “Back then I would have killed for some snow, it was so hot.” Laura looks concerned, she takes a step back. “It's a joke sweetie.”  
“Ha ha, funny, sometimes it's hard to tell. What were you doing in Mexico?”  
“Mother and I, well she didn't exactly tell me what was going on, but I found out later we were looking for an old manuscript, a translation of this old book. All I remember her saying is 'Dentro de la oscuridad, hay la luz. Sigue la luz y te encontraras a ti mismo.' Inside the darkness there is the light. Follow it and you shall find yourself.”  
“Creepy,” Laura says. Carmilla smiles. “I mean, when you said it, it didn't sound creepy, it sounded nice, like poetry, but still, creepy.”  
“Ah yes, Mother the sweet talker. We ended up in a village, where we were helped by a young girl named Rosa and her grandmother. Her brother and father were out fighting 'la revolucion.'”  
“This girl, was she like me?” Laura asks.  
“No, she was nothing like you.”  
“That's not what I meant. I'm beginning to notice a pattern.”  
“You want to know what happened to her.” Carmilla says.  
“Yes.”  
“I honestly don't know. When she found out what I was, she, she wasn't scared. She had seen so much death and suffering in the war, this was just another thing that happened, something to be accepted. She wanted me to turn her.”  
“Did you?”  
“No, of course not. Even if I'd have wanted to, mother would never have allowed it. Mother told me to get rid of her. I walked Rosa to the edge of town and told her never come back. I don't know what happened to her after that. After we found the book we left town. If I disobeyed, Mother threatened to kill everyone in town, she always had a flair for the dramatic, 'it will be a river of blood and suffering, if you disobey' or some other such nonsense. I told Rosa, before I left, if you knew me, if you knew my life, you would never ask that from me.”  
“Sometimes I forget,” Laura says, “how every story ends with you hurting someone, usually a girl. A girl like me.”  
“I told you, I didn't kill her.”  
“Not her, but there were others, girls you fed on.”  
“I had to feed,” Carmilla says. “It's not like it is now, I couldn't just go to a hospital and steal some blood. I had to feed to stay alive. Would you deny me that right?”  
Carmilla steps away from the tree and they continue on their walk. 

Paris

“Tell me another story,” Laura says.  
“It's the same story, over and over. It's just like you said, just another girl I hurt, why torture yourself, why torture me with this just to rehash the past? It's over, it doesn't mean anything.”  
“You almost died,” Laura says, “I almost lost you. It means something to me. Sorry I snapped at you. It's just, I get scared sometimes, and I worry that you'll leave, and I'll be all alone.”  
Carmilla doesn't respond.  
“You said you were in France, how many times total?” Laura asks.  
“A lot, but this was my last visit.”  
“So you speak French as well?”  
“Si, I mean yes, I mean oui,” Carmilla says. “I speak many languages.”  
Their steps leave footprints in the snow. It's quiet in the path, save for the underbrush and snow beneath their feet.  
“It had been a decade since I had been disinterred, and the weird part, after eighty years in a coffin, you'd think I’d want to be in as wide an open space as possible, but when I saw up a high building, when I looked up at the stars on a clear night, I nearly went mad. There was so much open space, too much. I was still adjusting to the outside world after a lifetime in darkness and solitude. By this point, I had been alone for the longest time in my life. I was living in a small apartment, I haunted the narrow streets at night, ate and slept alone. I was hiding from her but I never really told myself that I was hiding, I never admitted it to myself. I had just ordered a coffee at a small restaurant when Mother sat across from me. You can imagine my surprise at seeing her, every bone in my body wanted to scream. It was like all those memories came rushing back, and the thought of being with her again made me want to crawl into myself and disappear. I wanted to run but I knew that she'd catch me, eventually, and it would be far worse for me. So I stayed. From that moment on I plotted my escape, or imagined it really. But it was always tomorrow, or the next day. Tomorrow always came and nothing had changed. There were days when I thought about ending it all, just to spite her.”  
Laura is quiet.  
“Do you like that story better, darling? The only girl who was hurt was me.” Carmilla walks forward and doesn't wait for Laura. Laura trots to catch up with her but she’s gone. Laura doesn't recognize the area, doesn't know which way to go. In the quiet and calm forest, Laura imagines what it must have been like to be Carmilla at that time, all alone, lost in the world. She thinks about Carmilla's 'mother.' It must be difficult to accept that she is gone. Even though she was a horrible person, they were together for a long time, centuries. Laura wonders if Carmilla would leave her in the forest, cold and alone. She continues in the opposite way they were walking, hoping it's the right way. She can see the footprints faint in the ground. Eventually she comes to a clearing in the forest.   
There is Carmilla, sitting in the front porch of the cabin, cigarette in hand.

The Cabin

“Took you long enough.”  
“That wasn't funny,” Laura says. Carmilla smiles.  
“La plus perdue de toutes les journee est cell ou l'on pas ri.”   
“That sounds nice, but I'm almost afraid to ask what it means. Some blood sacrifice, a near death confession of lost love.”  
“The most wasted of all days is the one during which you did not laugh.”   
Carmilla offers Laura a cigarette, Laura shakes her head no.  
“And now, do you feel claustrophobic anymore?” Laura says.  
“No,” Carmilla says. “Thankfully that's passed, for the most part.”   
Laura takes a deep breath. “Just hold my hand,” she says, her voice almost a whisper. “If you ever feel claustrophobic or afraid, or alone just hold my hand okay? I won't ever let go.”  
“Thank you,” Carmilla says.  
“For what?”  
“For saving me.”  
“Okay, silly head, that fall must have knocked you around much harder than anyone thought. If you'll recall, you saved my life, and not for the first time.”  
Carmilla sighs, “you have to learn to take a complement every once in a while sweetheart.”  
They walk inside the cabin and it looks like there hasn't been an occupant in a long time. Everything is neat but with a fine coat of dust on it. There is a picture of a pretty girl on the wall. They make their way to the bedroom.  
“You owe me one last story,” Laura says. “Try and make it a happy one, there must be a happy one during all those years.” She pauses. “Out of all of the places that you've been, which is your favorite?”  
“Here, with you,” Carmilla says.  
“Liar.”  
“Alright, I'll tell you a story if it'll get you to stop talking.”  
Laura jumps under the covers with the glee of a small child.  
“Okay, I'm ready,” she says.  
“It's a long story,” Carmilla says.  
“That's okay, I have time, and it just so happens you do as well.”  
“A long time ago, there was a young girl, living in a castle with her family.”  
“Ooh, a fairy tale. What was her name?”  
“She went by many names, but you may call her Carmilla.”  
“That's a pretty name.”  
“Merci, but, are you going to keep interrupting?”  
“Sorry,” Laura says.  
Carmilla smiles, she sits next to Laura on the bed, looking out the window. “This girl had her childhood robbed. She was alone for a long time, and she was profoundly lonely. There were days when she didn't much see the point of getting up in the morning. The mere act of existing was a burden to her. But one day she met a girl, named Laura, and they fought and clashed, like all good friends do. At first Carmilla didn't much like this new girl, she found her rather annoying, uptight. But little by little Laura grew on her, and they became friends. After a while she didn't feel so alone anymore, and it was more than that, a sort lightness fell over her. And just like that she was in love. The end.”  
“Oh come one, you skipped over the best parts, you're not telling it right.”  
“Do you want to tell it then?”  
“No, I want you to tell it, but tell it right. That's not how it ends, that can't be how the story ends. How does the story end?” Laura says, nearly running out of breath.  
“With a kiss,” Carmilla says, “like all good fairy tales, it ends with a kiss.” She leans and kisses Laura on the lips.


End file.
